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by rosewaterangel



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Modern AU, every day kurapika must suffer, hxh - Freeform, i havent seen a lot of them just hanging out before!!, its like a father-son talk, kurapika adopts killua, kurapika and killua hang out, theyre quarantined too i decided lmao its not referenced in the fic tho, trauma gang unite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:08:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24136363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosewaterangel/pseuds/rosewaterangel
Summary: Killua can't get to bed, so he does what any sensible teen does and dyes his hair. While it's fermenting he has a heart-to-heart with his new dad, Kurapika!
Comments: 4
Kudos: 47





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“Dyeing my hair, dyeing my hair, dyeing my hair ‘cause I’m dead inside. Dyeing my hair, dyeing my hair, dyeing my hair to escape the dread.” Killua was not entirely sure how to dye his own hair, and he was too exhausted to read the instructions on the back of the container. Luckily, it was hard to fuck up smearing Manic Panic in your hair, so he was doing pretty good. Making that little song as he went helped as well.

He knew he had to be quiet, since it was four in the morning at the whole house was (or at least, should be) asleep. With a head full of shockingly blue hair dye, he snuck out of the bathroom, tiptoeing towards his bedroom to grab his phone so he could watch TikToks on the bathroom floor. All he had to do was avoid Kurapika, who would probably not be totally pleased that he decided to poorly dye his own hair. Who was he to say anything? Kurapika was literally the king of unhealthy coping mechanisms. At least this wasn’t hurting him, it might just look like shit!

Creeping down the hall, he tried to peak into Kurapika’s bedroom, wanting to be sure he was asleep, but it was much too dark to notice either way. Killua just rushed on past to his room. He pulled off one of the blue-coated gloves, grabbing his phone off the nightstand before heading back to the bathroom for fear of getting dye on his bedding.

As he exited his bedroom, he noticed the light on in the kitchen. He knew he shouldn’t, it’d be a bad idea to go in there and possibly get caught, but literally what could Kurapika do? It was his own body, he should be able to dye his hair if it’ll make his brain release any of that sweet forbidden nectar that is serotonin.

But what the hell, right? It was already in his hair, it’s not like he can just reverse it. So he headed out into the kitchen, only to find Kurapika on the floor with a mug full of cold, black coffee to one side of him, and to the other mac and cheese he was eating with a wooden spoon, straight from the pot.

Kurapika, much to Killua’s surprise, didn’t seem to mind that his hair was bright blue now. He didn’t even seem phased by it. “You dyed your hair.” He said, not sure what else to say beyond the observation.

“Now everyone will know I’m gay.” Killua said, picking up the spoon and taking a bite of mac and cheese.

Kurapika chuckled, not minding the pure thievery that is taking place. He took a sip of his nasty, bitter coffee and looked over at Killua. “Well, whatever. You’re old enough now to make your own decisions.” He pat the ground beside him. “Grab another spoon if you’re going to have some.”

Killua grinned, grabbing a serving spoon from the drawer before settling in on the floor beside his friend. “Thanks, mom.” He took a nice, big bite of the mac and cheese, careful not to lean his head too far back against the cabinets.

“Can’t sleep?” Kurapika asked, looking at the clock. “Did you get any rest tonight at all?”

“No, did you?” Killua raised an eyebrow.

Kurapika shook his head, wordlessly taking another sip of coffee. He knew he couldn’t really lecture him now without sounding like a hypocrite, but… “You should really try to sleep at some point. It’s not good for you to stay up this long.”

Killua waved a hand. “No, I’m fine. … Sometimes dad would make me stay up for way longer than this, you only really start to lose it a few days in.”

Kurapika frowned, looking down into the nearly empty cup. “It doesn’t matter how long it takes before you… ‘lose it’, as you put it. You should get more sleep than you do. You’re still growing.” He said, finishing the dregs of the drink before getting up to pour another cup-full.

Knowing that his friend still saw him as so much of a child made Killua roll his eyes. “I’m not some stupid baby that needs a lot of sleep. I’m fine.” He itched his neck, looking at the dye that came off onto his fingers, working its way under his nails.

Kurapika put the mug in the microwave to heat up the coffee. He leaned against the counter, looking over at the boy sitting on the floor. He was still a child, no matter what hell he’s seen. Even if he’s stronger and more mature than a person his age should be, he’s still little. “It would make me happy if you got enough sleep. I like to know you’re taking care of yourself.”

“But you don’t sleep enough, either.” Killua pointed out. “Get back here or I’m gonna finish the mac and cheese.” He said, shoveling more into his mouth.

“No, that’s fine. You can have the rest.” Right before the microwave could beep, he opened the door, pulling out his now-hot mug full of shitty coffee. Sitting back on the floor, Kurapika leaned against the cabinets, closing his eyes. “Do you need to talk about why you’re awake?” Even though he was exhausted and dealing with so much in his own head, he was still going to make time for Killua to talk about what was going on. Everyone should have the space to do that, and he knew that Killua really never has.

“No.” He answered simply. It’s not that he didn’t want Kurapika to know about what was bothering him—it was usually pretty obvious that it was related to the abuse he’d suffered in his early childhood. He’d just never really learned how to talk about what he was feeling.

Plus he didn’t want to say to Kurapika of all people that he wished his parents were dead.

“Can I take a shot?” Killua asked, grinning up at Kurapika.

“No, absolutely not.” He said, sipping his coffee. “I will not encourage underage drinking.” Kurapika was pretty harsh with rules like that.

“Fine, but that’s lame as hell, just so you know.”

“Think it’s lame all you want, I still won’t let you drink. All we have in the house is Leorio’s beer anyway, and that is disgusting. If you’re going to drink, it had better be something better than beer.” He said, pausing for a moment. “But you are not allowed to drink until you are of-age.”

“What about weed?”

“No, not that either.” Kurapika sighed, opening his eyes once more. “I think we should look into getting you a therapist.”

Killua groaned. “I don’t want one!”

“And I don’t want to come home one day and find out that you gave yourself alcohol poisoning. Or worse.”

“Dude relax I’m fucking fine okay. Fucking millennials.”

“I’m Gen Z, but believe what you will.”

“Shut up and go back to killing whatever industry’s next, clown.”

Kurapika frowned. “Watch it. I really don’t appreciate you talking to me like that.”

Killua, sad that he’s disappointed one of the only (if not _the_ only) good parental figures he’s ever had, mumbles an apology. “… Hey, I know I never really… Say thank you to you for having me here, but.” He took another bite of mac and cheese. “Thank you.”

Kurapika watched him, his face softening a bit. “You don’t have to thank me. You deserve a place you can feel safe.” He would have put a hand on Killua’s head if it weren’t for the blue goo in it.

“Yeah, but… It’s still not like you had to let me live here.” Killua decided that was enough being fucking dumb and sentimental for now, getting up to look in the fridge. “Gon finished the chocolate milk.” He huffed, before settling on a CapriSun.

“Killua?” Kurapika smiled at him. “I’m very glad you’re here. You deserve to grow up in a safe place with people who care about you.”

Killua pouted and stomped his foot, much like a toddler. “I get it. I’m gonna wash this garbage out of my hair.” He said, heading out of the kitchen without another word. Though he acted like a petulant child (because he is one), he really appreciated Kurapika caring about him. It was like having a real parent. One that didn’t treat him like shit and actually helped him learn how to survive on his own, instead of learning to become a tool. Living in a place that encouraged having a heart instead of ripping them out of people’s chests was… different. Better. And although he, in his teenage angst and brooding, doesn’t want to say it, he appreciates living here.

He finally knows what it feels like to have a home.


End file.
